


Munchausen

by Officer_Jennie



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, No Underage Sex, Not promising regular updates, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, mostly pre-slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Snippets of Shisui's life, often revolving around his favorite, albeit rather withdrawn, cousin.





	1. When He Was Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory from when Shisui was five, and Itachi was just born.

Shisui has always found it difficult to sit still. He needed to be moving - his teeth bit into the flesh of his lower lip, nose scrunching up. He was trying to be quiet, trying to read whatever his mother had shoved into his hands. But his mind wasn’t quiet enough, his fingers not still enough to keep the words steady.

He swung his legs back and forth, feet not quite reaching the bleach-white tiles of the too-bright floor. His mother was seated across from him, occasionally speaking in a hushed voice at the unhappy man next to her. Shisui didn’t know his name. He couldn’t figure out if the man was angry or sad. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, knuckles white on his knees, his eyes only flickering away from the floor when a man or lady in itchy looking blue clothes walked by. The people never looked at them though, only ever at their watches or the papers they all seemed to be scratching notes on. They all looked unhappy too.

“Kaa-san, I wanna go home.” Shisui huffed. His seat was uncomfortable, his shirt itches where teh tag lay against his neck, and he just wanted to do something. His mother sent him a sharp look, but said nothing. He wished she would. Talking was at least something. But she was as quiet as possible around the unhappy man, whom Shisui decided was the most serious looking man he’d ever seen. He was no fun, sitting there with that funny inbetween-angry-and-sad look, and had kept Shisui and his mom there for too long.

Shisui stared at the man, puffing out one cheek as he frowned. He did not like this man. Not one bit.

“Kaa-san.” He whined louder this time, his book thrown and forgotten in one of the many empty chairs next to him. She sighed this time, running a hand over her face and through her short hair. She looked tired and sad all at once, glancing back at the unhappy man like she wanted to whisper more at him. Instead, she slowly stood up, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her work apron before coming over and sitting next to Shisui.

“Honey,” she started, picking at the fraying ends of her apron. She was close enough for Shisui to smell the work day on her, greasy food and dirty dishes and soap. Shisui’s nose scrunched back up. She used to smell good. Before his dad came home angry one day, growling about “empty promises.” He hadn’t gone back to work since then. He also smelled bad now, like the cans and bottles he left on the coffee table.

“We can’t go home yet.” Shisui looked up at his mom, frowning - he’d almost forgotten she was talking.

“But why?”

“Would you like some hot cocoa? I saw a vending machine down the hall a ways…” She stared down the hallway, voice trailing off.

“Okay!” Shisui slid off his chair, reaching for his mom’s hand. It was cold in this building, and he liked cocoa. He wondered for a minute why his mother was so quiet, and why she wasn’t angry with him for whining. But he was getting cocoa, so everything must be okay.

They walked quietly down the hallway, hand in hand, and for once Sakiko wasn’t snapping at her son for dragging her. She got out the 260 yen for the cocoa, handing the small, warm can to Shisui. He happily drained half the can.

“Shisui, honey.” His mom bent down in front of him, rubbing his arms in a comforting motion. She stared at the floor for a minute, her hands resting on his shoulders, before finally meeting her son’s eyes.

“Honey, you remember meeting Mikoto obasan, right?” Shisui frowned and shook his head. His mother ran a hand through his short curls - he felt it shaking, and wondered if she was cold too. “You don’t remember meeting my sister? I suppose you were rather young…”

As she trailed off, Shisui spoke back up. “Mom, why can’t we go home?”

“Mikoto obasan isn’t doing too well, honey. Neither’s her son.”

Shisui perked up at those words. “I have a cousin? Can I meet him?” Another boy to talk to would make this place better. Maybe he liked cocoa too. Shisui shook his can, feeling for how much was left. He nodded, determined - he could resist the warmth and save the rest for this mysterious cousin.

Sakiko shook her head, a sad smile crossing her lips. “I told you, he’s not doing well.” Shisui frowned. Oh yeah. “He was supposed to arrive today but his…journey hasn’t gone as smoothly as it should have. And now him and his mother are both very sick.” She leaned forward then, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m worried about them, and Fugaku ojisan shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“He looks angry,” Shisui mumbled, glancing down towards his cocoa, warming both his small hands around it.

“He’s scared.” She leaned back and took one of his hands, rubbing it gently for a minute before standing back up. “I know he’s not the best company right now, but he needs us. And remember this Shisui. When someone you love needs you, be there. Even if you can’t do anything else.” She gave his hand a light squeeze and smiled, a little more genuine this time. “Now, come on. Let’s go wait with him, okay?”

Shisui puffed a cheek out, but nodded slowly. He hated waiting.

Shisui passed out shortly afterwards, curled up against his mother - Fugaku lent him his jacket as a blanket before wandering outside for quite some time. He came back smelling of tobacco. Sakiko said nothing, though she remembered the joy in Mikoto’s voice when he gave up cigarettes a few years ago.

It was early the next morning when Shisui was woken up by his mother. He didn’t have time to rub the sleep from his eyes before they were rushed down several halls, an elevator, and then more halls. The lady leading them spoke like she was important, and her white clothing stood out amongst her blue dressed nurses. She eventually led them into a dimly lit room where some machine was beeping and another buzzed quietly in the background.

Another lady was in this room. She was pale, like she had the flue or ate something weird, and her ink black hair only made her look sicker in contrast. Fugaku was by the woman’s side in an instant, foreheads pressed together, his hand running through her long hair. The lady’s smile was weak but genuine as she stared back at him. Sakiko sat next to her on the bed and motioned Shisui over to them.

“Imouto, you remember Shisui, right?”

The sick lady turned her smile towards him, her whole face soft and bright despite the pain evident in her eyes. “Of course, how could I forget such a handsome boy?” She struggled to sit up, Fugaku quickly wrapping an arm around her shoulders while Sakiko adjusted her bed and pillows. “Do you like sweets, Shisui?” At his shy nod, she chuckled lightly and motioned to her bedside table, where a tray of mostly-eaten breakfast sat. “They brought me far too much this morning. Would you like the little cake they gave me? I don’t want to worry them over something so silly.”

Shisui quickly decided that Mikoto obasan was an angel sent to Earth. Soon the doctor returned, and the adults asked many questions, and she answered them all. Shisui heard a lot about someone’s lungs and heart and bleeding. It was when the doctor mentioned someone having “probably only a few months” that Mikoto paled even more and Fugaku nearly feel backwards into a chair, that Shisui paused and began to truly listen.

“Is there anything we could’ve done?” Mikoto’s voice was soft, so much so that Shisui nearly missed her words.

“No. There was no way to catch this before birth, and nothing would’ve prevented his condition.” The doctor sighed, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Maybe in a century or two, when DNA and genes can be selected at conception, but, until then…”

Most of that day is a blur in Shisui’s memory, as are most things - he’s never been one to remember the details, no matter how hard he tries sometimes. He can’t remember what he was wearing, or who had babysat him earlier that day, or if Fugaku had said a single word that night.

One thing did stand out in his mind, an island of bright light and plastic amongst blurs of grey. A tiny body in a glass cradle, hooked up to machines and tubes. A name taped to the glass, and tiny fists clenched tightly, fingernails the size of grains of rice.

Little Itachi, the “rainbow baby,” not expected to last long outside the warmth of the womb. The miracle that was not meant to last.

Shisui didn’t understand much. He didn’t know why his mother was always tired, or why his father always slept on the sofa instead of his bed. He didn’t know where the baby came from, or why even the nurses and doctors wouldn’t touch him. But Shisui knew that Itachi was special, and burned the image into his mind forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if Shisui's actual parents were ever given names, so I just made up Sakiko to be his mother, and made him more closely related to the core Uchiha family. Rainbow babies are babies born after at least one was lost to a miscarriage.
> 
> Any comments are welcome :)
> 
> Japanese notes:
> 
> Obasan - aunt  
> Ojisan - uncle  
> Kaa-san - mom


	2. When he was Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shisui's birthday present might be a bit late, but it's much better than he could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just pretend it _didn't_ take almost a year for this to come out, okay?

October came and went, Shisui’s smile waxing and waning with the moon. Even Halloween had little flare, the chill in the air flushing his cheeks red and cracking the skin of his palms.

After November began too soon, he briefly considered making a fuss - but the dark circles under his mom’s eyes gave him pause, and the ever-growing distant look on his father’s face made up his mind.

Instead, Shisui sat in the floor of his room with a few of his old toys around him, quietly celebrating his late birthday with an imaginary too-sweet cake and hand-me-down presents.

His mother startled him awake the next morning with near desperate shaking of his shoulder. “Shisui, you sleep like the dead!” Shisui sat up, barely aware of his mother’s huffing and grumbling as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Kaa-san, it’s Saturday.” He continued to whine as his mother went about his room. She stopped at the toys in his floor, still placed in a semi-circle from his late-night celebration, and tisked before shoving them all into his toy basket.

“Must you leave your floor a wreck? And no, it’s Sunday - come on, Shisui, you need to get dressed.”

He held back a groan, but only barely, as she searched through his clothes for who-knows-what. As she went on mumbling to herself, he turned his head, eyeing his pillow briefly before shrugging and flopping back down. He threw the top of his futon over his head and once again was graced by the blissful warmth and darkness.

When his mother woke him up again, she was practically hissing in anger. She tossed his clothes down on the bed next to him, demanding he put them on quickly before coming down for breakfast.

“And,” she stopped in the doorway, a hand on the doorknob and her eyes narrowed, “do  _not_. Make me come dress you.” She shut his door hard, the frame shaking slightly and leaving the room quiet.

Shisui pouted, fiddling with his night shirt. It was probably best to do as she said. He wasn’t the smartest kid in his class - his no-better-than-average grades would testify to that - but he could tell she was getting angry, and he  _hated_  when his mom was angry with him. So he abandoned the warmth and comfort of his futon, this time not bothering to hold back his groan, wondering where they could be going in such a hurry on a Sunday.

He got dressed quickly and headed out to the living room, sticking his legs under the kotatsu as he settled in - it wouldn’t be turned on for at least another month, but it was still warmer underneath the blanket. While he waited for breakfast, he poked at a small hole in his pants, rolling his eyes around the living room in hopes something would catch his attention.

The living room was small. Everything here was smaller - the bathroom, the kitchen, his room. There wasn’t even a balcony here for his mom’s plants like their last place. He remembered she had looked sad giving most of them away when they moved here.

They’d only been here a few months, and Shisui still didn’t like it. There was no upstairs, their neighbors were too loud, and everything felt too tight and too big all at once. Thinking about it for too long made his head and chest hurt.

His mother brought two plates from the kitchen and sat across the kotatsu from him. Leftover curry and rice. He scrunched up his nose but said nothing, picking up his spoon to at least poke at a carrot or two.

She didn’t let him laze around like usual, rushing them both out of the house and ignoring Shisui’s grumbling protests.

“Kaa-san, are we going to the shrine?” They were already walking down the stairs to the train station when he bothered to ask. Every month or so she would drag him to the local shrine. It hadn’t been something they’d done when he was younger, at least as far as he remembered, but it wasn’t like he minded the trips. He liked walking through the gardens, even if his mom often had to scold him for being too loud.

“No, we’re visiting my sister.” The gate beeped as they went through, his mom sticking their train card back in her wallet as they walked down yet another set of stairs.

Shisui frowned, scuffing his feet on the ground as they stopped to wait for the next train. He remembered he had an aunt. Sort of. She had long hair...and she was pale.. And she was at the doctor’s when- “Oh! The one who had akachan?” He’d only seen his baby cousin once, the one with really small hands and fingers and toes. “I forgot his name.”

“Itachi-chan, yes.” His mother had a faint smile on her face, the train blowing her hair even as it slowed in front of them. It was odd, because her eyes looked really sad. “He’s finally home, so I thought we should visit.”

“He wasn’t home? Where was he?”

“Shisui, he was sick, remember?” She smoothed a hand through his hair, keeping it on the back of his head as they entered the train cart and sat down.

“So he’s all better now?” A hand on his knee kept him from kicking his feet, as did a short and sharp look from his mother.

“No. He’s still sick. But Oba-san was a nurse, so she knows how to care for him.”

Shisui couldn’t recall ever visiting his oba-san and oji-san. Their house was a long walk away from the train station, and was an actual house! No apartment complex, it was a separate building from those around it, with its own garden in the back. The whole neighborhood was in private awe with Shisui as he stood staring. His mother was less impressed, shooing him up the walkway to the front door.

The lady who answered the door was a lot warmer than the last time he saw her. Her hair was no longer dull, her skin not sick and wet - there were a lot of lines around her eyes though, and there was something off about her wide smile that Shisui couldn’t quite put his finger on.

They were quickly ushered into the living room - Sakiko making sure to turn Shisui’s shoes at the entry, scolding him quietly as Mikoto, ever the perfect host, immediately brought out a tray of snacks and turned the electric kettle on. There were some snacks Shisui didn’t recognize, and he couldn’t read the kanji on them either. Mikoto noticed him hesistating and handed him one.

“Ringo Otome. They’re famous in Nagano. Fugaku just went on a business trip there. They go beautifully with green tea.”

It took nearly half an hour for Shisui to remember why they were there. He had eaten several of the ringo things, some ice cream mochi, and had started on his second cup of tea. His mother and aunt had been chatting back and forth. Most of the conversation bored Shisui - talk of his uncle, work, medication, uncle’s smoking habits. The last bit seemed to upset his aunt, her pleasant smile vanishing from her face.

“He tries to hide it, but comes home reeking of smoke, Saki.” Mikoto sat her tea cup down, reaching for one of the neatly folded cloth napkins she had placed out for them. Shisui watched as she refolded it, pressing each crease carefully. “It’s bad enough he’s smoking again, but lying to me?”

Shisui peeked up at her from behind his own cup. She was dabbing at the corners of her eyes. They looked full and unhappy, but she laughed and brushed it all away when Sakiko tried to comfort her.

“It’s just a lying husband. It’s not all that bad.”

Shisui scrunched up his eyebrows. He was always told not to lie, and got in big trouble when he did. Especially when he lied to kaa-san. If it hurt Mikoto oba-san so much, why wasn’t she upset? Or was she upset?

He nibbled on another otome. He didn’t really understand his oba-san, but he liked her well enough. And he decidedly did  _not_  like his oji-san already.

“...I know it’s hard on him, Saki, but I’m the one taking care of him. I give him his medication. I  _see_  what happened - what  _is_  happening - to our little boy. And yet he’s the one who’s sneaking around.” Mikoto’s voice got small again, and she looked exhausted, as if mentioning her son brought all the pain she hid to the surface.

Wait, her son...?

“Ita-chan is home, right?” Shisui forgot instantly why he was brought up, excitement bubbling up and causing him to grin wide. “Where is he?” Even knowing he wasn’t in the room couldn’t stop him from whipping his head back and forth, hoping to catch a glimpse of his little cousin.

Mikoto frowned ever so slightly. “He’s in his room resting at-”

“Where’s his room?” Shisui was up in a heartbeat, ready to make a beeline for his cousin. Sweets and tea were nice, but his legs were itchy, and his thoughts got too loud and fast when he had to sit still for so long. Maybe they could play tag? Or build something? Maybe he had video games?

His thoughts were cut short by his aunt’s stern but gentle voice. “Shisui, Itachi is ill. He can’t play like normal boys. He needs to sleep.”

Shisui whined and pouted at that, much to his mother’s embarrassment and horror, but eventually was scolded into sitting quietly as the two women went back to chatting away. He eyed the two warily, plotting his escape.

It turned out his plotting was unnecessary - though he was sad to scrap the great Bathroom plan (pretend he had to pee and wander the house until he found his cousin). His aunt had recently started a tiered herb garden - “I can’t leave Itachi alone,” she explained, a slight pained expression on her face, “and a normal babysitter just can’t handle him” - and insisted on showing Sakiko. To his delight, Shisui was told to stay inside at the kotatsu. He put on his most innocent face, big eyes and smile, and promised not to move an inch.

Mikoto gushed at how cute Saki’s boy was. Sakiko looked unconvinced, but followed her imouto outside anyway.

He jumped up as soon as the backdoor shut behind them. They had passed some stairs on their way in, and he bolted up them now. He tried a few doors in his search, finding a bathroom, a large bedroom, a drab room with a desk and far too many cabinets, until  _at last_ he found the right one.

Itachi’s room was larger than his own, but the space didn’t make it as inviting as it should. The whole room seemed cold. There were no pictures on the wall, no toys scattered about. Shisui suddenly remembered where he first met his aunt, in a cold room that smelled so clean it burned his nose. Everything about this room made him want to leave.

Until a big pair of tired eyes caught his own.

Tiny, pale fists wiped at those big eyes, the small boy yawning as he sat up in his bed. He peeked at Shisui curiously, but didn’t make to get up or greet him.

Shisui didn’t know why he expected Itachi to be his age - he puffed out a cheek, upset at himself. Of course his cousin was younger. Of course he was smaller.

Was he supposed to be that small though?

Now, Shisui wasn’t great at a lot of things. He hated numbers, refused to type at computers, and had nearly sprained his ankle the last time he “played” baseball. But he knew he was great at talking to people. He made friends easily, and people loved being around him.

He was told Itachi wasn’t like normal boys, but Shisui wouldn’t let that stop him. He grinned wide at the boy as he plopped right next to him on the bed, earning an even bigger eyed stare than before.

“Hi. i’m Shisui. We’re cousins, but I don’t have any brothers, so call me Shisui-nii, okay?”

The boy blinked his doe eyes at Shisui in response. Shisui looked around the room again, his smile unwavering. “You don’t have any video games, do you?” Blink. “Well, what do you do for fun?” Blink.

Shisui huffed and threw his hands back at the bed, leaning on them. He frowned up at the ceiling for a minute before looking back over at his cousin. “You have toys, don’t you?”

Itachi cocked his head to one side, staring at Shisui for another minute. He didn’t look sad, or happy, or angry, or even tired anymore. Shisui scrunched up his nose, studying his little cousin as Itachi did the same with him. Eventually, ever so slowly, the younger boy crawled out from underneath his covers and placed his bare feet on the floor, heading for his closet. Shisui noted his night clothes had little black birds on them, and found it utterly adorable.

Itachi came out of the closet with his arms full. He gingerly placed his findings on the bed, then sat himself in-between Shisui and the stack of books.

He nearly groaned as Itachi carefully looked at each book. “Those aren’t toys. Those are booooorrring.”

Itachi seemed to ignore his whining, carefully picking up his books and studying the covers until he found the right one. With his decision made, he handed it to Shisui and looked up at him, big, quiet eyes and long lashes and too-pale skin.

Shisui looked down at his cousin. He had bandaids on his upper arms, pink with kittens on them. His wrists were so small he looked fragile. “What do you want me to do with this?” He finally looked at the book in his lap, and remembered seeing it somewhere before - it was about a turtle and a cat. One for little kids, too.

“Read to me?”

Shisui blinked down at his little cousin. His voice was small, but he didn’t sound nervous. Just quiet. He nodded slowly, though he wasn’t nearly as reluctant as he made himself out to be. “But just one, I’m too big to read this stuff.”

Itachi’s smile wasn’t big like Shisui’s. It was quiet, just like his voice and eyes. But Shisui found it fit his Itachi perfectly, and grinned right back at him before launching into the story.

By the time Sakiko and Mikoto discovered them, Shisui had read through the stack and started over, Itachi curled up tight against his chest with his eyes barely open. He was scolded the whole way home for not listening, but he found, for once, he couldn’t feel sorry for what he did - even if he was grounded and told several times how serious Itachi’s “condition” was.

He curled up in bed that night and slept peacefully. For once, he didn’t dream about moving or his father’s raised voice, but of ways to make Itachi smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Fugaku isn't actually a bad person in this AU. That being said, since Shisui doesn't like him right now, the story will be colored against him a tad bit.
> 
> This chapter was written, like, about a week after the first one? But there it sat, collecting dust, me ignoring it cause I'm a bitch like that. The writing will thankfully improve from here on out, since I'm surprised (and happy) to note I've gotten better since last March (hurray!!!)
> 
> Also a friendly reminder that I know next to nothing about children. Sooooo yeeeaaaahhhhh...
> 
> Akachan - Baby  
> Ringo otome - apple flavored rice crackers  
> Imouto - little sister


End file.
